Even after Tycho disappeared the echoes of him lingered in the room; the air didn't lose the tingling feeling of anticipation, or the tension. Left alone in the middle of it Ford was overcome by the feeling that he was out of place — like this was not his room at all, but some foreign fantasy that he had been transported into and now could not return from without help. As he retrieved his wand he asked himself am I really going to do this? and hesitated — but the decision had already been made. He'd told Tycho he would come; Ty said he would be waiting. Even if Ford came to his senses now he would have to at least go and communicate that to Tycho, to tell him that this was a bad idea and they couldn't go through with it — he owed him that. And he could pretend while he crept down the stairs, checking the corners for any signs of family members, that this was what he was going to do — to go to Tycho's house and tell him this had all been a terrible mistake. He could tell himself that all the way up to the moment he apparated over.
That wasn't what happened, obviously.
When he returned to the garden forty minutes later he was changed only in subtle ways. He had taken the time to push his hair back into its normal shape in Tycho's mirror; turned the collar of his pajamas up on one side to cover the bruise Ty's mouth had left on his neck. He'd wiped the sweat off before he dressed again, but he couldn't wipe the guilt away. We can't do this again, he'd told Tycho, some new variation of the same sentiment every four minutes or so, but that hadn't prevented either of them from going through with it.
In his room on the third floor he pulled the comforter back on his bed and collapsed on the bare sheet. He took the amulet Ty had given him in one hand and used his other arm to pull the spare pillow close against his chest. It was a poor substitute for holding Ty, but obviously he couldn't have stayed. He shouldn't have gone in the first place. Jemima's light had been off when he came home. He hadn't even checked it before he left. God, what a mess his life was. He had to hope Tycho had more self-control than he did and would stay away from him from now on, but that seemed like a rather vain hope given the events of tonight. Maybe I'm just not cut out for this, he thought, but it was a useless observation; he'd never been cut out for any of the situations he'd been forced into, and that didn't change anything in the end.
He fell asleep still holding Ty's amulet and thinking I'm sorry, I'm sorry, on a loop — sorry for Jemima's sake, for Tycho's, for his own, for everything and everyone.
That wasn't what happened, obviously.
When he returned to the garden forty minutes later he was changed only in subtle ways. He had taken the time to push his hair back into its normal shape in Tycho's mirror; turned the collar of his pajamas up on one side to cover the bruise Ty's mouth had left on his neck. He'd wiped the sweat off before he dressed again, but he couldn't wipe the guilt away. We can't do this again, he'd told Tycho, some new variation of the same sentiment every four minutes or so, but that hadn't prevented either of them from going through with it.
In his room on the third floor he pulled the comforter back on his bed and collapsed on the bare sheet. He took the amulet Ty had given him in one hand and used his other arm to pull the spare pillow close against his chest. It was a poor substitute for holding Ty, but obviously he couldn't have stayed. He shouldn't have gone in the first place. Jemima's light had been off when he came home. He hadn't even checked it before he left. God, what a mess his life was. He had to hope Tycho had more self-control than he did and would stay away from him from now on, but that seemed like a rather vain hope given the events of tonight. Maybe I'm just not cut out for this, he thought, but it was a useless observation; he'd never been cut out for any of the situations he'd been forced into, and that didn't change anything in the end.
He fell asleep still holding Ty's amulet and thinking I'm sorry, I'm sorry, on a loop — sorry for Jemima's sake, for Tycho's, for his own, for everything and everyone.
Set by Lady!